


Many Nights of Stars

by lajulie



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Bespin, F/M, Falling In Love, Ficlet Collection, Movie: Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-30 04:00:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18307766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lajulie/pseuds/lajulie
Summary: A series of ficlets set on Han and Leia's journey to Bespin during the Empire Strikes Back. Friendship, love, and a little mild angst over what awaits them. Originally posted to Tumblr for Scoundress Saturdays, often in response to prompts.





	1. They have their moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han's perspective as they prepare to float away from the Star Destroyer with the rest of the garbage. Written for HanLeia Appreciation Week 2017 Day 2, "Favorite moment or scene."

The cockpit was dark, the indicators and displays lending a soft glow to their faces, the engines almost completely still as the ship clung to the side of the Star Destroyer. When they spoke, it was in quiet tones, as if worried that the Empire would hear their words.

If not for the gold-plated protocol droid slumped over in the seat next to Lela, the Wookiee waiting at the landing claw, the mass of Imperial ships ruthlessly hunting them, and the blasted broken hyperdrive, it would almost be romantic out here among the stars. _It’s too bad_ , Han thought, trying to shake off those thoughts. _We just ran out of time._

Leia pulled up next to him. “What did you have in mind for your next move?” she asked quietly, her voice surprisingly gentle, considering the mess they’d just been in. And hadn’t quite escaped yet.

Han kept looking straight ahead, but he could feel Leia’s eyes on him as he explained Imperial procedure and the pre-hyperspace garbage dump. He could smell a faint hint of the shampoo she used, the bottle he’d brought back on a supply run once because it had the same name as that Alderaanian flower that was so rare now. _Arallute_ , that was it. He breathed a little deeper to smell it again.

“So we just float away,” he explained.

“With the rest of the garbage.” There was no trace of rancor or derision in her voice now; even her dig at his ship was obviously meant to be a gentle tease rather than an insult. “And then what?”

_Ain’t that the million-credit question._ Han knew what probably _had_ to happen between them now: nothing. Or, nothing more than what had already happened, though he refused to regret kissing her in the circuitry bay.   

For now, he had more practical concerns. “Then we have to find a safe port somewhere around here. Any ideas?”

She leaned closer, and they both peered at the navigation screen, scanning nearby systems for one that would work. _We make a pretty good team when we’re not at each other’s throats_ , Han thought, enjoying their closeness.

Then he saw Bespin on the map, and remembered his old friend. “Card player, gambler, scoundrel. You’d like him,” he told Leia, and _was she blushing when he said that_? “It’s a long way, but I think we can make it.”

Then it was time for Chewie to release the landing claw, and soon they were adrift in the garbage, the Imperial ships disappearing into hyperspace one by one.

“You have your moments,” Leia admitted, leaning down to place a kiss on his cheek. Her lips were soft, and he could smell her arallute shampoo again. “Not many, but you do have them.”

Han looked ahead as he steered them from the garbage, but his thoughts remained on Leia. It would take a long time to get where they were going. Maybe they weren’t out of time yet.

_It’s a long way, but I think we can make it._


	2. He really is, he really does

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia catches Han watching her sleep. Posted in response to a Scoundress Saturdays prompt.

Routine was good, was simple necessity for a ship on a long voyage through space. They hadn’t done too many trips of this length, he and Chewie, and none without a main hyperdrive, but they’d done enough to know that time confusion could make you fuzzy, make you forget where you were and where you were going. Could make you vulnerable to pirates or oblivious to critical systems malfunctions; could make you _dead_. So after they’d picked their destination (or more to the point, Bespin had picked _them_ , being really the only available option), they’d set the _Falcon’_ s chronos and established something resembling a daily routine. Wake up, check on the ship, kaffe, breakfast, upgrade or fix something, lunch, upgrade or fix something, dinner, drinks and sabacc, sleep, repeat.

A week in, the routine had undergone some significant modifications, based on how things had… _progressed_ between Han and Leia. There were still three meals per day, and occasional attempts to upgrade or fix something, though to be fair most everything that could be upgraded or fixed with the parts at hand, _had_ been. But wake times were a lot more variable these days, breakfast more leisurely, and the afternoon hours more likely to include the couple disappearing into their cabin for a “nap.”

Well, they did usually fall asleep _afterward_. Which is why Han was gazing upon a sleeping princess at the moment.

She’d turned to her side, dark hair splayed across the pillow, body curled in on itself, the creamy skin of her shoulder peeking out from the sheet. He watched her breathe, saw the curves of her chest move up and down, her face relaxed. She’d lost the tightness in her features that, he realized, had been a staple of her expression for some time on Hoth, along with the dark circles beneath her eyes. He’d loved her then—of course he’d loved her then, their relationship on this trip just an extension of what had begun on that frozen base. But he rejoiced a bit to see her sleep peacefully now, to let that tension go yet lose none of the fire of the woman he loved. _  
_

_You’re good for me_ , she’d said to him one morning, a sunny expression he’d not thought possible on her face, and her words had thrilled him for days. Still did, if he was honest about it.

He was still musing on the purse of her lips and the curve of her eyelashes when the latter unexpectedly fluttered open, revealing a pair of deep brown eyes that were very much awake and aware.

She turned her head and looked over her shoulder at him. “Were you…watching me sleep?”

He wasn’t quite sure how to react. “Um,” he swallowed.

Leia turned over, propping herself up on her elbow, a smile traveling across her face. “You were!” she said, her eyes twinkling.

“Okay, maybe I was,” he admitted, failing miserably at nonchalance.

She grinned up at him smugly. “Han Solo,” she said in a tone he recognized from years of teasing her, “Admit it. You’ve got it _bad_.”

He grinned back and kissed her. “I do,” he said. “I really do.”


	3. A different way to be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One morning on the journey, Leia reflects on what's changed over the past few weeks, and what's remained the same. Written for a Scoundress Saturdays prompt: a line from the Cranberries song "Dreams."

Leia was reaching to place the pins in the back of her hair when she stopped and stared at her reflection in the _Falcon_ ’s ‘fresher mirror.  

It was a small thing, insignificant next to nearly anything else that had taken place over the last eight days, but still it seemed so strange that she’d not noticed it before: the woman staring back at her was intact. Whole.

She’d gotten so used to the mirror she’d hung in her quarters on Hoth, a silver circle cracked so badly from the cold that it had become a web of jagged fault lines. Every morning on base she’d used it to apply her makeup and pin up her hair, learning to ignore the distortions, the dozen shattered pieces of Princess Leia looking back at her as she worked. Making do.

On first glance, her reflection now might suggest she was still making do, her white snowsuit abandoned for a borrowed t-shirt and pants, her face naked of makeup, the braids she had paused in arranging the only nod to her previous routine. But Leia felt more herself now than she had in a long time. More…real, somehow.

It was wonderful. It was terrifying.

It would be easy to say that it was just about the sex, the thrill, that she’d indulged in a brief fling facilitated by close quarters and a broken hyperdrive, a passionate detour into a dream that could never be. That this Leia was a temporary one, to be replaced as soon as she returned to the fleet.  That the words he’d said so tenderly into her ear last night— _I love you, Leia, min larel_ —were either the sweet lies of a dashing scoundrel or the delusions of a man caught in a dream world himself. That he’d fallen in love with someone else, some idea of a Leia who didn’t exist.

It would certainly be simpler if those things were true, any of them. If he hadn’t told her he loved _her_ , all the shards of Leia from before, the living woman before him, all of it. If she hadn’t heard, _felt_ the promise in his heartbeat wild against her chest, the green-gold of his eyes, his brow furrowed in tender seriousness, his soft voice against her ear. If his words hadn’t given her the very thing she was afraid to want, and wanted anyway.

_The person falling here is me_ , she admitted to her reflection, even if she couldn’t yet say it to him. She returned to her task, watching herself in the mirror, and smiled.


	4. Victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia challenges Han to a game of dejarik--with a twist. Written in response to an ask on Tumblr requesting a strip dejarik drabble.

After the chaos of their first meeting, countless missions together, years of fighting and flirting on multiple bases, and the last three weeks of inching along through space, Han had learned to expect the unexpected when Leia Organa was involved.

At least, he _thought_ he’d learned.

“Care to make this a bit more interesting?” Leia asked. 

The competitive twinkle in her eye was nothing new—this was peak Leia, challenging him at sabacc or on the blaster range or whatever other kind of competition might come up. She might not win, she might not have a chance in nine hells of winning, but she’d sure put up a damned good fight. 

To be fair, she did win a lot. More often than you’d think.

The game this evening was dejarik, which Leia had taken up in earnest after running out of reading material on the ship. Han didn’t play that often anymore—dejarik was more Chewie’s game, and the fact that Chewie was such a bad sport about losing had taken a lot of the fun out of it. However, it turned out that Chewie was a much better sport when playing with Leia, especially as they were using it as a way to facilitate her Shryiiwook lessons. Han had quickly started boning up on the game again, wanting to be up to the inevitable challenge. 

And here it was. “What did you have in mind?” he said, his voice dipping down a bit in register. Their transformed relationship was so new, so intense, that even their usual banter had taken on a new kind of thrill these days.

“Well…” Leia’s eyes darted to the doorway, and she paused, as though listening for something. The drone of Chewie’s snores drifted up from his cabin, and Leia seemed to relax, turning back to Han. “Perhaps a wager?”

“Assume you’re not talkin’ about bolts,” he said. Bolts were the main currency they’d used for their weekly sabacc games with Chewie and Luke on base.

Leia gave him her sly smile, the one that crept up, just _appeared_ on her face, and shook her head.  “Clothing,” she said.

Han grinned. _Never stop surprising me, do you?_ He knew it was dopey, lovesick, whatever, but he couldn’t get enough of looking at that knowing smile, those lovely lips, the spark in her eyes as she challenged him.

“You’re on,” he said softly.

* * *

Dejarik was not the sexiest of games, that was for certain. Sure, there was strategy involved, skill, but ultimately you were pitting holo beasts against each other in a faux death match, until one beast stood triumphant, beating its chest.

Strip dejarik, it turned out, was perfect for Han and Leia and the current state of their relationship, which frankly had only recently moved from friendship and _I-want-you-but-it-cannot-be_ frustration to _leaping-into-the-abyss-holding-hand_ s romance. A little sexy, a little silly, their walls and hesitations tossed aside like the t-shirt Leia had just thrown to the floor.

Han laughed, pulling Leia to him for another stolen kiss, breath high as he kissed down her newly exposed collarbone. He began to toy with the strap of her bra, but she stopped him with her hand.

“Uh-uh-uh, Captain. You haven’t won that yet. And it’s my turn,” she chided, wriggling out of his grip.

Han loved how she so quickly switched from her teasing admonition to focused concentration as she considered her next move. _You know you’ve got it bad,_ he thought, _when a damn_ frown _is sexy._

Leia made her move, her warrior easily crushing one of Han’s last guards. The defeated beast bleated as it sank onto the board.

“Check and mate. Lose the pants, Solo,” she demanded.

Han leaned over the board. “Is that an order, Princess?”

She leaned in, kissed him hard, then sat back. “That’s called _I won_ and _you lost_. Time to pay up,” she said triumphantly.

The bloodstripes hit the floor. Victor and vanquished looked at each other for a long moment before pulling back together, the game abandoned. Finally, Han lifted Leia up, lay her down gently on the table, hit the button to power off the beasts. _Here’s your victory lap_ , he thought, as she held him close, kissed him, touched him, calling the shots even from beneath him. _Everybody wins_.


	5. Let's exchange the experience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do you want to feel how it feels?" As they drift off to sleep one night, Han has an unusual experience that gives him an insight into Leia and her feelings for him (possibly with a little help from the Force?). Inspired by the Kate Bush song "Running Up That Hill."

“Do you want to feel how it feels?” Leia asked, the words reverberating against Han’s chest.

He looked down at her, his hand moving to caress her hair again. He thought she had been asleep, based on the long pause that had preceded her words. As had become their habit on this journey, they had ended the evening wrapped in each other’s arms, talking quietly in the dark.

“How what feels, Sweetheart?” he asked back, wondering if she really was just drifting off to sleep, her half-awake brain putting together questions without her knowledge.

She answered his question with another question. “Have you ever just really—felt so much?”

He chuckled mildly, pulling her a little closer. _All the damned time with you, Sweetheart_. “Yes,” he said.

There was another long pause, ended by another statement that didn’t seem to follow the others. “I tried to make a deal, with the Goddess.” 

This time, Han was almost certain she was half-dreaming, and responded only with a kiss to the top of her head.

“No, really, a deal. You and me. Changing places.”

He traced his fingers down her shoulder, to her arm, and took her hand in his. “’S all right, Leia. I know.”

That seemed to comfort her somewhat, and she squeezed his hand before drifting back to sleep.

* * *

_That wasn’t the only deal I tried to make with the Goddess_. Han could feel Leia’s voice again, but it was more like something he felt inside his body, not nestled against his chest.

And suddenly, somehow, he felt acutely what it meant to occupy Leia’s heart. He felt her fear, her anger, her immense loss. Her confusion, the flutter of her heartbeat increasing after a sparring match with him, the voice inside her trying to talk herself down. _He’s leaving, any day he’s leaving. Maybe he’ll stay a little longer, but he can’t stay forever. I can’t put that on him, ask him to stay. I can’t. I won’t do this to myself._

He saw flashes of the last three years, the surge of joy when a mission went right and everyone came back in one piece, her fear and determination when things went sour. The times she’d asked the Goddess, _please_. _Please, by the Force, let him be alive_. The moment when he’d announced his departure in the command center and she’d gathered every resource she had to bid him farewell without apparent emotion. _It’s easier this way_ , he could feel her saying to herself. _For both of us_.

_I didn’t want to hurt you_ , he felt her say.

Then he felt nothing but love. Love that crashed through her, overjoyed her, surprised her with its power. Love so overwhelming that it took away her ability to say it. And fear, always the fear that it would all be taken away.

_Do you feel how it feels?_

* * *

The cabin lights were set to turn up gradually in the morning, or their version of morning, to give their bodies some poor imitation of sunrise and sunset.  Han blinked, still lost in his earlier dream. Leia was still sleeping on him, her hair splayed out across his chest, her hand still lightly holding his.

She stirred, then rose up a bit, looking at him. It almost looked like she had been in the middle of a dream as well.

“I love you,” he said quietly.

She blinked up at him. “I—I know. And…” She stumbled on her words.

“I know,” he said. “I know.”


	6. His hand in hers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia's still wary of Cloud City, but finds safety in Han's hands. A slight variation from a Scoundress Saturdays prompt: the first time Han and Leia hold hands.

“And who might you be?” Han’s friend Lando asked, taking her hand. 

Leia couldn’t hide her amusement. “Leia,” she said, smiling at him, and Lando gallantly pressed her gloved hand to his lips.

Then suddenly Han was there behind them, taking her hand from Lando and pressing it into his own. “All right, you old smoothie,” Han said with a smile, and with the touch of his hand, the fears that had been plaguing Leia’s brain since before their arrival finally quieted down.

They were almost giddy as Lando led them through the corridors of his Cloud City complex, Han’s bare hand holding her gloved one with a steady yet gentle pressure. 

Leia almost felt a little drunk. That would make sense—they’d polished off the remainder of the Whyren’s in the wee hours of the morning—but she wasn’t entirely sure it was due to the whiskey. She kept flashing back to other moments from last night. Their lovemaking had been part tender devotion, part attempt to ignore the reality waiting for them after the _Falcon_ was fixed and Leia rejoined the Rebel fleet. It was part gentle kisses and whispered _I love yous_ (from Han—Leia hadn’t quite worked herself up to saying the words out loud yet), part the comfort of each others’ arms, part primal sighs of _yes, right there, don’t stop, please, oh yes_ and the feeling of his hands on her skin…

Han gave her hand a squeeze as Lando showed them to the suite he’d arranged. Leia smiled up at Han, relishing how comfortable holding his hand felt now.

Obviously, it was far from the first time they’d held hands, but before this trip, before the place they’d reached over the last six weeks, just the feeling of Han’s hand in hers had felt dangerous.

Not when he was helping her over an obstacle or hoisting her into a transport on a mission, of course; these were the kinds of things any soldier would do for another. _He would do it for Luke, wouldn’t he?_ had been Leia’s justification whenever she’d found herself questioning Han’s intentions in one of those situations. 

But the other times were terrifying, the times when taking her hand was definitely _not_ something he would do for Luke (unless he and Luke had a very different relationship than Leia thought). Dancing with her at hers and Luke’s Majority party, their hands clasped together. Pulling her through the marketplace on a mission, Imperials in pursuit, and then keeping her hand in his after they were safe. Caressing her dirty hand in the circuitry bay, followed by—well, that was really the start of this new place, wasn’t it?

Lando left, finally. Leia withdrew her hand long enough to remove her gloves, her eyes remaining on Han’s, her sly grin matching his. Then she put her hand back in his, where it belonged. Where her hand, and her heart, were safe.


End file.
